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Alternate Ending
Ralph, Piggy, and Samneric sat in the shelter, unable to sleep. The silence stretched to the point of being uncomfortable. The others were just faint outlines in the dark, and would have been invisible but for the faint glow of the moon through the shelter roof. Piggy’s voice sounded faintly. “We have to get my specs back.” It sounded as though he had been crying, and Ralph felt the slightest twinge of pity. He was also angry that Piggy only seemed concerned about himself, when all he had done was try and keep everyone alive and get them rescued. He remembered being helpless as Jack had taken Piggy’s only way to see and their only way to light the fire, and his anger subsided. Morning light filtered through the leaves of the shelter roof. Ralph was already up, and the rest of the boys joined him as he blew the conch to call an assembly. Perhaps it was foolish, but he was hoping that at least a few of the other boys would come. He knew they could hear the conch, but still they refused to come. Either that or Jack wouldn’t let them. Samneric emerged from the shelter, leading Piggy. His eyes were red and puffy, and he stumbled several times when Samneric failed to warn him of driftwood soon enough. Only one shelter remained standing, and that one only partially. Jack’s tribe had knocked the rest down in attempt to scare Ralph and the others during their raid. Ralph held the conch in front of him and began to speak once Piggy and Samneric were seated. “We got to do something about Jack. First he caused everything to break up, and then he stole Piggy’s specs and our fire. Without the fire we can’t make smoke, and without smoke we can’t get rescued. We got to do something.” His speech was met with silence; neither Piggy nor Samneric had any arguments. Samneric asked for the conch, and Ralph handed it to him. “We should go--” “In the evening. That way we won’t--” “Have to see their paint. Or we--” “Could wear paint--” “No.” Ralph said firmly. “No paint. We aren’t savages. And we’ll go now.” Piggy held out his hands, and Ralph gently placed the conch in them. “You should take spears. We can’t underestimate Jack and his tribe. There’s no telling what they would do anymore.” Samneric nodded, then realized that Piggy couldn’t see. “Yeah. You-- “Should take one, too, Piggy.” They left soon after. Ralph led Piggy, but also carried a spear. Samneric had spears as well. Piggy carried the conch. They stopped a little way away from Jack’s camp. Ralph blew the conch, and a flurry of movement could be heard. Soon three boys came running out of the camp, painted and carrying spears. “You shouldn’t be here,” said one of them. Ralph guessed that it was Robert. With him were Maurice and a smaller boy. “Where are the others?” Ralph asked, ignoring him. “Out hunting,” the little boy said. “But he’ll be back soon, and he’s gonna hurt you for coming to his camp. We was supposed to find you and bring you here anyway. He’ll be glad you made it easier for him.” Robert hit him across the face. “Shut up, idiot!” To Ralph he said, “Get out of here. This is our side of the island. You’re not welcome.” He turned to go back to the camp, expecting them to respect the obvious dismissal. However, Ralph stood his ground. He blew the conch again, and soon all the boys were visible at the top of the ridge. “I’m calling an assembly!” Ralph shouted. “For two reasons! First: you have to give Piggy his specs back.” This was met with boos and jeers from the boys. “Sure, you feel brave now, when you’re all hidden by branches and face paint! Piggy’s right, you’re acting like savages and children. You should know better than what you’re doing. Don’t you want to go home?” “What’s going on here?!?” Jack appeared from the other side of the ridge. “This is my camp. Get out of here!” When Ralph showed no signs of leaving, he called to his tribe, “grab them!” It was chaos. Boys rushed to the stair-like edge of the ridge, carrying spears and shouting. Jack used the confusion as cover, hoping Ralph wouldn’t notice the figure charging at him, holding a spear out. Ralph saw him coming and swung his spear up, knocking Jack’s to the side. They fought for several more minutes, neither really gaining the upper hand. Piggy blew the conch as hard as he could, surprising everyone. The boys stared at him, astounded, yet still hateful. Roger, still up on the ridge, took the opportunity to dislodge the huge rock at the top that they had put there to defend their camp. Ralph, seeing this, ran towards Jack, and pushed him into Piggy, who was directly underneath the rock. Piggy fell out of the way just in time, and Jack was crushed by his own defense mechanism. Pandemonium struck like lightning. All at once, the rest of the boys rushed towards Piggy, Ralph, and Samneric, throwing rocks and spears. Ralph struggled to help Piggy to his feet from where he had fallen when Jack collided with him, then they all took off running. Along the way, Bill dropped a torch he had been carrying, and the island lit up like it had been doused in gasoline. Nearly blinded by smoke and bright flames, the four boys stumbled as quickly as they could towards the beach. Behind them they could hear the savages spreading out and trying to find them, trap them, and then do who knew what. They were nearly there when Piggy had his asthma. “Help me carry him!” Ralph called to Samneric, choking on smoke. They half-carried, half-dragged Piggy the remaining distance to the beach. There they collapsed, struggling to fill their lungs with cleaner air. Ralph thought he heard a noise, like someone clearing their throat, but he wasn’t sure over the noise of Piggy fighting to breathe, Samneric coughing, the crackling of the fire and the cries of the savages quickly approaching them. He looked up to see the shiny black boots of a naval officer. The savages ran onto the beach, their wild cries dying in their throats when they saw the adults. Soon the only noise was the roaring of the fire, as the savages stood in ashamed silence and Piggy’s breathing faded back to normal. Piggy whimpered quietly, tears streaming down his face. Soon all of them were crying, wailing, their dreadful lament covering all other noise. The salty tears washed some of the paint off of the savages’ faces, leaving smudged streaks on their cheeks. The officer spoke. “What do you boys think you’re doing here?” Ralph answered. “There was a plane. We crashed. No one knew where we were. We were together at first, trying to keep a fire lit for a signal. And then--” he could not continue. Tears streamed down his face, and he curled up on the ground, as if trying to hold himself together. The littluns continued wailing, eerie notes merging together to make a beautifully haunting melody. They left the island, but none of them ever forgot it.